


I want you here with me (like how I pictured it)

by mrsyt31



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-21
Updated: 2014-10-21
Packaged: 2018-02-22 02:45:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2491598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsyt31/pseuds/mrsyt31
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When his husband dies at the age of thirty, Louis is left to figure out how to navigate life on his own. A P.S. I Love You AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I want you here with me (like how I pictured it)

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who have seen the film, you'll know what to expect, I guess. For those who haven't, I apologize in advance. 
> 
> This all happened because nearly six months ago, Sarah wanted a Ziall AU, and I felt compelled to convince her that Louis and Nick ARE Holly and Gerry, (Seriously. Watch the first scene and tell me it's not true.) and she convinced me I should write it instead of whatever else I was planning at the time.
> 
> Big shout out to Jessypt for the beta (even though I'm not sure I let you finish. Seriously. I have NO CHILL.) and to SarahAH30 for the britpick. Any remaining mistakes are my own.
> 
> This one is for my very own OT5 - restitched, wolfh00r, venti_turtl, and my fic wife, badjujuboo, aka pineapplecaz AKA PINEAPPLE TO MY SWEET POTATO EMOJI FOR LIFE.
> 
> This is a work of fiction, based on a film. The characters are fictional representations of real people. None of them belong to me.

_New Years Day_

"Darling, I'm not sure what I did, but I can tell that you're angry -"

"Of course I'm angry, you complete and utter _knobhead_!"

"Alright, I understand. But if you could just tell me what I did, then I could try and fix it."

"You said it. You know what you said!"

"Well, sweetheart, you should know by now that most of what I say is complete bullshit, doesn't mean anything. I like to talk just for the sake of hearing myself talk, you've said so yourself!"

"You don't say something like that without meaning something by it, you _don't_. Not even an airbag like you, Nicholas."

Nick takes a deep breath, clearly trying to remain calm, and fuck all, Louis _hates_ it when he does that. He wants Nick to get angry, because the sooner Nick starts yelling the sooner they can get this over with. 

"Louis, dearest love of my life, what _exactly_ did I say that has you in such a strop?"

"I am not in a strop!" Louis shouts and stomps his foot. And okay, maybe he _is_ in a strop, but it's all Nick's fault. "You told my mother I didn't want a baby, Nick! My _mother_! Single mother of five kids, and now she thinks her oldest doesn't want any of his own!"

"But. That's, that's not what I said." 

Louis grabs the shoe he just took off and throws it at Nick's head. His aim isn't very good, and Nick manages to duck out of the way. Maybe he'll actually start taking Louis serious for once. 

"She asked me if we were considering adoption, and I told her -"

"You said I wasn't ready. That _I wasn't ready_. We have a plan, Nick, a _plan_ ," Louis mumbles as he tosses his suit jacket over the back of the chair and starts to undo the buttons on his shirt. "Why couldn't you have told her about _that_?"

"Because she didn't ask about 'the plan'. She asked whether or not we were going to give her grandchildren!" Nick is clearly exasperated now, but he's still teasing Louis, which just makes Louis even angrier. He's grinning at Louis in disbelief, standing there in his briefs with his shirt still half buttoned while he picks up the trail of clothes that Louis' left in his wake. It's infuriating.

"But kids are part of the plan! We're supposed to stay here in this flat for five years to save money so we can buy a nicer place with a couple of bedrooms and a garden. Don't you want that?" It's not the first time they've had this argument. Louis' sure it won't be the last. "Why do _I_ always have to be the responsible one, Grim? Why can't I be the eccentric, fun-loving hipster who charms people with my terrible Beyoncé impersonation?"

"Do you want a baby?" Nick asks.

"Don't turn this back on me, Nicholas Peter Grimshaw, you know I want kids, but that's not the plan right now!"

"Fuck the plan," Nick shouts, and then thinks better of it. He crowds into Louis space and takes him by the shoulders. "Do you want a baby? Because if you do, then let's have a baby."

"Sure," Louis scoffs. "In a third floor walk up in Chelsea with no room to get around. I'd have to change nappies in the bathtub!"

"Then let's move!"

"We can't afford to move! You've only just got a proper timeslot at the station, and I'm still waiting for a full-time position to open up at school. Have you not been paying attention to anything these last few years?"

"Well," Nick replies in his best sarcastic tone. "If it's money you're worried about, perhaps you should stop buying designer clothes!" He picks up the shoe Louis threw at him earlier, and waves it in his face.

"I buy everything in second hand shops!" Louis shouts. "It doesn't count if you're buying Burberry from a shop called 'Trevor's Treasures' in Sheffield!"

Nick sighs, long and deep, and scrubs a hand over his face. "What do you want from me, Louis? Sometimes I feel like you're just looking for a fight, and I don't even know why. Do you want me to leave? Is that it?"

And that's just. Louis can't even think about that. "Do you want to leave?" he asks, his voice wobbling out of his control.

Nick's got hold of Louis’ arms again, squeezing just hard enough to let him know how desperate he's feeling right now. "Dammit, Louis, you know I don't want to bloody leave. But if that's what you want, then stop being a smarmy little prick and just tell me already. Because I know _exactly_ what I want, and I'm looking at him right now."

Louis just looks at Nick, and it's all there in his eyes, all of the love and truth he's always given Louis, and he can feel the exact moment his body gives up the fight. 

"Are we done fighting now? Can we just make up already?"

Louis nods and throws himself into Nick's arms, whispering in his ear, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Nick presses kisses all over Louis cheeks, takes his face in the cradle of his ridiculously long fingers. "Stop trying to push me away," he murmurs. "I'm not leaving you, _ever_. I'm not your dad, love. Haven't you figured that out yet?"

"My mum said it was a mistake to marry you, because I loved you too much. She said we were too passionate and we'd burn out. I just. I don't want to make any mistakes, Nick." He'd been only nineteen to Nick's twenty-two when they met at T in the Park music festival in Scotland, and six months later they'd eloped. Neither of their parents had approved, and it had felt a lot like the two of them against the world. Seven years later it still feels that way sometimes. 

“People make mistakes, love,” Nick answers with a kiss to Louis' mouth. “But this, us? Not a mistake. _Never_ a mistake. And of _course_ we're going to last, don't be silly.”

"But how do you _know_ that, Nick?"

"Because," Nick replies. "You're still the first thing I want to see when I wake up every morning, and the last thing I want to see before I close my eyes at night."

Nick pulls him over to the bed and crawls in, tugging the blankets up around them. He pulls Louis close and presses their foreheads together, kisses him softly as Louis runs a hand up to toy with the curls where Nick’s quiff has fallen flat. 

“I’m sorry I get so crazy sometimes,” he whispers. “I just. Sometimes i feel like I’m just waiting for our life to start, you know?”

“Louis,” Nick sighs. He smiles softly and traces a single finger across Louis' cheek, brushes Louis’ fringe back from where it's fallen in his face. “We’re already living our life, for better or worse.”

Louis smiles and rubs their noses together, kisses Nick softly. "Til death do us part."

"Even after that," Nick replies. Louis thinks he's probably right about that.

 

******

 _Winter_...

“Liam, love, can you go grab a couple of bottles of Jameson from the crate in the store room?”

“Sure thing, Mrs. Tomlinson,” Liam answers.

"He seems to be working out well," Louis says absently, watching as his mum pulls a few more shot glasses from the dishwasher under the back counter.

"He's a lovely boy, and a hard worker," she answers. She's run this pub for as long as Louis can remember, taking it over from her dad when he was too worn down to be bothered anymore.

Louis' idly wiping down the bar, even though there's no real customers today; friends and family only. He watches them filter in, some of them coming over to say hello, others offering up a sad smile when he makes eye contact. 

He hopes people won't cry. Nick would have hated that, although he has to admit Nick would have loved that these people were gathered here because of him. But then again, Nick had planned this whole thing on his own, right down to the music and what type of whiskey he wanted. He hadn't wanted Louis to worry about the arrangements, and Louis had accused Nick of thinking he'd just mess it all up. They'd spent so much time fighting over the years, and Louis regretted a lot of it. But even now, Louis thinks he'd give anything to have even one more argument. One more chance to say _I'm sorry_ and _I love you_. 

The music starts, and they all take their seats around the room. Louis' flanked by his mum on one side, and his two best friends, Niall and Zayn, on the other. Zayn's wife, Perrie is at one of the tables in front, chatting with two of Louis' sisters, while the other two are in the corner looking at photographs of a life that doesn't belong to Louis anymore. 

He should maybe be horrified at the music Nick chose for this occasion, but somehow 'Drunk in Love' seems oddly appropriate. 

Louis is so grateful for these people, who share their favorite memories of Nick and toast to his life, but he feels so disconnected from it all, suddenly. It's stifling, the way he almost feels like he can't quite catch his breath. 

He looks over, and there's Henry and Gillian, Nick's flatmates from when they first met, reliving a story about Nick's exploits before he'd met Louis and they turned into boring old marrieds. Henry's married, himself, now, and Louis smiles, just a little watery. He and Nick had made a week of it, the trip to the country estate that Henry and David had rented for all their wedding guests, as a sort of late anniversary gift to each other after five years of marriage.

There'll be no more weeks like that. Nick is gone, and Louis' alone now. 

He closes his eyes as everyone raises their glass in a toast.

**

The crowd is beginning to thin out a bit, and Louis is starting to feel like he can breathe. It hurts, but that feeling he had earlier, like he was being held under water, is starting to dissipate. He’s sat at the bar with his sister, Lottie, who came home from University in America to be here, when two tumblers and a bottle of whiskey is set on the bar in front of him. 

“Sorry for your loss,” the new barkeep, Liam, says quietly. He’s almost timid, like he’s afraid Louis will snap at him when he asks, “How’d he die?”

It's a close thing, the not snapping. But Liam's brown eyes are warm and wary, and Louis gives him a curious look, swallowing hard in his throat. “Brain tumor,” he answers, finally, matter of fact. 

“Sick,” Liam says, and then looks pained when he realizes what he’s just said. “I mean. Sorry. I’m sometimes a bit awkward in uncomfortable social situations. Sorry.”

Liam turns and walks to the other end of the bar, and Louis gives Lottie his best _What the bloody hell was that?_ look. She bursts out laughing, and then cringes, like she feels bad for laughing whilst at her brother-in-law’s funeral. 

“It’s okay, Lott. It’s nice to hear some laughter in the midst of all of this. Life goes on, right?”

She smiles at him just as their mum rounds the corner of the bar. “That’s right, love,” Jay says. “You need to get back on your feet, figure out what you’re going to do with the rest of your life.”

Louis knows, _he knows_ that his mum is trying to help, but suddenly he’s feeling exhausted. And a little bit sick to his stomach. 

She reaches out, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You can stay here tonight, love. Your old room is all made up for you.”

“Thanks, mum. But I think I’ll go back to the flat. Just want to be by myself for a bit, catch my breath, and all that.”

Jay sighs, pulling Louis into a tight hug. “If you’re sure. Just don’t go hiding yourself away, alright? We’re all here to help you, so don’t shut us out.”

“Promise,” he replies with a kiss to her cheek.

He says goodbye to all of his sisters, and takes Nick’s elaborate urn in his arms before he sneaks out the back door of the pub. He’s not sure how many more goodbyes he could handle just now.

The walk isn’t that far, and thankfully it’s not too chilly tonight. Louis’ always bundled up in a warm coat, but he’d been too distracted to remember his scarf or a pair of gloves. Nick would have given him hell for it, but then lovingly wrapped his own scarf around Louis’ neck to stave off the cold. God, he could barely manage to look after himself when Nick had been alive. What was he going to do now, without him?

He climbs the three flights to their flat, all his now, remembering the argument they’d had on these very steps nearly a year ago. But that was before Nick got sick, before Louis’ life changed forever and small things seemed like the end of the world. He unlocks the door, sets Nick on the table and kicks off his shoes. There’s nobody here besides him to trip over them anyways. 

He picks Nick back up and carries him through the flat to their bedroom, setting the urn down on the trunk they use as a bedside table. It’s so quiet now without Nick’s voice filling up all the empty spaces, and Louis wants to scream just so he doesn’t feel so alone in the silence. He starts to panic, his throat tight under the tie he’d put on earlier and his skin blotchy with heat. He loosens his tie and gets his shirt unbuttoned just enough that he can pull it over his head before his hands start to shake. Somehow, he manages to undo his flies and tug off his trousers, crawling into bed in just his pants. He grabs his phone from where he’d left it to charge earlier that day and pulls the blankets up tight around his shoulders. He dials Nick’s number, still connected through the end of next month, and starts to cry when it goes to voicemail.

_Hiya, you’ve reached Grimmy! Couldn’t make it to the phone, but if you leave me a message, then I’ll get back to you! Ta!_

Louis hangs up and dials again.

**

His phone rings a lot. Louis mostly ignores it. He can’t be bothered with social niceties when his life is in a state of complete upheaval.

He’s not done the wash in over a week, but it’s alright. He has a seemingly never ending supply of Nick’s oversized jumpers and pants, and it’s not like he’s leaving the house anyways. He’s currently wearing one of his favorites, a red and navy striped thing that Nick used to wear all the time. It still smells like him a bit, and Louis has no plans to take it off until Nick’s smell is completely gone. 

He dreams a lot, lately. They don’t really feel like dreams, but he knows that they are, only because Nick is in all of them. He'll think he's asleep, and suddenly he feels long arms around his waist, a leg casually thrown over his hip holding him in place. 

Some nights he'd swear he can feel Nick's breath on the back of his neck, singing 'Crazy in Love' softly in Louis' ear as he scoots back into the warmth of Nick's body. And Louis will talk to him, isn’t even surprised when Nick talks back.

“I miss you so much,” he says, eyes still closed, focusing on the graze of lips over the top of his spine.

“I’m right here,” Nick replies, his voice teasing, just as it had been during so many of their late night conversations.

Louis sighs, but doesn’t open his eyes, just tries to curl himself into the protective cage of Nick’s arms. “I can’t sleep without you here.”

“You’re sleeping right now, love.”

“Don’t remind me,” he whispers. “Why is it that I can still feel you everywhere I go?”

“I promised you I wouldn’t leave,” Nick replies as he strokes his finger over Louis forearm. It’s hypnotic, and Louis finds himself falling into unconsciousness again.

“Stop making promises you can’t keep.”

**

It’s been four weeks since Nick died. Three weeks since the funeral. Nearly that long since Louis has left their flat.

He’s lost track of the days, really. He only knows for certain because of the sheer volume of take away containers that line the kitchen counters and the dirty clothes strewn all over the bedroom. He’s watched so many episodes of The Great British Bake-Off that he’s actually chosen a favorite of all Mary Berry’s flowered jumpers.

He’s not exactly sure what day it is today, but he’d found an old white button up of Nick’s in the back of the closet, the kind he would have worn with a suit and tie. He pulled it on over his dirty t-shirt and did the buttons haphazardly. He had one of Nick’s favorite playlists on the ipod and was singing an old Katy Perry song at the top of his voice. It was something Nick used to do, dancing around to his favorite songs, singing along (badly), and putting on a show for Louis, just to make him laugh. Louis finds it oddly comforting right now, wearing Nick’s clothes and listening to Nick’s music, and singing into Nick’s old hairbrush like a microphone. He’s making a proper go of it, putting on an award winning performance, to be sure. 

That is, until he turns around and sees his mum, one of his sisters, and his two closest friends standing in his doorway. 

“Hi,” he says, confused, grabbing the remote to turn down the music.

They all wave, and a chorus of half-hearted _Happy Birthday_ s answers him. 

“My. My what? It’s not my birthday for at least another week yet.” He’s sure he hasn’t lost track of _that_ much time.

They all look at each other, worry clear on their faces. Louis crosses his arms over his chest in an act of defense.

"Louis, darling," his mum says carefully. "It's Christmas Eve, love. Have you left the flat at all recently?" She looks around disapprovingly at the takeaway containers littering the countertops, the mail piled up on the table.

"Um, yes? I went to the shops just last week. I think?"

His mum sighs, looking a bit defeated. Or disappointed. He can't really be sure either way.

"Are you drunk?" Lottie asks.

"What? No!"

"Do you want to be?" Niall says, like he's hopeful that Louis will say yes. 

Zayn points at him, "What’s that on your forehead, mate?"

Louis rubs absently at the plaster he'd stuck on his face yesterday. "S'just a spot."

"Oh Love," his mum tuts. "Have you not been showering?"

Perrie stumbles in, just then, a bundle of newspapers in one hand and birthday balloons in the other. "Bloody hell, Lou,” she says, face scrunched up in disgust. “What's that smell?" 

"Stop, all of you!" Louis' got his hands on his hips, and he's far too tired to try and prevent the tantrum he can feel coming on. "I'm fine, alright? I'm just. I wasn’t expecting company, and I'm _exhausted_."

Niall chuckles. "Not surprised, mate. What have you been doing, two shows a night?" He's clearly poking fun at Louis' earlier performance, but Louis can't be arsed to be embarrassed about that.

"Look," he starts, trying to come up with some sort of explanation that will get them all to stop pestering him. "I'm fine. Really. I'm doing alright, all things considered." And he is, really. He might have become a bit of a recluse, but at least he's stopped crying himself to sleep at night.

"Louis, love," his mum says gently. "I know this has all been really difficult for you, but, you have to realize that eventually, all of this," she waves her hands around at the disaster area that is Louis’ flat. "It has to stop. You have to find a way to start living your life again."

“Yeah,” he whispers, mostly to himself. He looks down to where his hands are toying with the cuffs of Nick’s old shirt, hanging past Louis’ wrists, even though he rolled them three times. Louis’ always been on the small side ( _petite_ , Nick used to call him), but he’s felt smaller than ever since Nick’s been gone. Like if he curls in on himself enough, he could just disappear. Clearly, these people, who love him so much, are not about to let that happen.

He shrugs, scrubs a hand over his face and then back through his greasy hair. “Just. Let me go and shower, yeah?”

As he’s walking away, he hears his mum mutter, “Zayn, make sure he puts on clean clothes. The rest of you, help me clear some of this mess.”

**

When he steps out of the steaming bathroom a little while later, Zayn is waiting for Louis with clean pants, a pair of skinnies he forgot he owned, and an old Misfits tshirt that he’d stolen from Nick shortly after they met. He smiles, just for a second, when he pulls it on over his damp hair, remembering the way Nick had complained about him getting the neck all stretched out, as if Nick didn’t wear all his shirts that way to begin with. His breath hitches just a little, but he manages to get it back under control before he turns around to face Zayn. 

“Do you think it would be alright if I stopped my life right here?” Louis asks. “I could become a proper recluse, like Ernest Hemingway or summat. Have all the neighbors talking about the crazy widower in 3C that never leaves his flat.”

“Nah, dont suppose you could,” Zayn replies, pulling Louis down to sit beside him on the bed. “You have to be rich to be insane, Lou. Losing your mind’s not a luxury for the middle class.”

Louis sighs and drops his head on Zayn’s shoulder. “S’not fair,” he whispers.

Zayn wraps an arm around his shoulder and pulls him close, leaving a kiss on top of Louis’ head. “I know.”

“Hey Lou,” Lottie calls from the doorway. “There’s been a delivery for you.”

Everyone’s gathered around the coffee table when Louis and Zayn walk into the room, and there’s a large pink box in the center. Louis sits between Perrie and Lottie, and watches cautiously as Niall takes the top from the box. There’s a cake inside that reads _Happy 27th Birthday, My darling, Love, Grim_. 

"What - what is this?" When he doesn't get an answer, Louis looks around the room, eyes landing on Niall. "Did you do this, Niall?"

"No, I swear."

Zayn gestures in Niall's direction. "What's that? Looks like something's taped to the inside just there."

There is, in fact, a small, old fashioned tape recorder attached to the inside of the box lid. Niall manages to get it out, handing it to Louis. He just stares at it for a moment, his throat tight, wondering just what kind of wanker would play this kind of joke on him.

That question is answered the moment he presses 'play'.

"Surprise! Happy Birthday, love," Nick's voice calls from the machine that Louis has now dropped on the table. 

He scoots back on the sofa and draws his knees up to his chest, eyes burning as he tries to fight back tears. " _Asshole_ ," he mutters under his breath. 

"Now, now, Lou," Nick continues on the recording, "don't be upset. I know this probably seems a bit morbid, but let me explain. I have a plan, darling, you'll be so impressed. I've written you letters, and they'll be coming to you at different times, in all sorts of ways. I thought I'd wait until your birthday, because I figured you wouldn't be going out much, just yet. The first letter will arrive tomorrow. You _must_ do as I say, and don't even try to figure out my plan, because it's fucking brilliant. Just bear with me okay? Because, the thing is, I'm just not quite ready to say goodbye to you yet. 

"So for starters, have some cake, and then get yourself dressed for a night out, let the lads take you out for a proper birthday celebration. Get out of the flat and have some _fun_ , and know that wherever I am, I'm missing you. Happy birthday, darling. I love you."

**

They end up at this terrible club in central London called Funky Buddha. It’s good in a way, because it’s not the type of place Nick would ever have gone to. It’s too commercial, too mainstream, not a hipster in sight. It’s kind of perfect, actually. At least for tonight.

Niall heads off to get them all a round of drinks, and Lottie drags Perrie out to the dance floor. By the time Louis is three drinks in, he’s wrapped up in a conversation with a couple of lovely young ladies. They are very sweet, cooing over him and buying him more drinks as he tells them all about his tragic love story. It’s probably not what Nick had in mind when he’d imagined the boys taking Louis out for his birthday, and it’s certainly not what they would have done if Nick were still around to help him celebrate. Nothing’s the same now that Nick is gone.

All of a sudden, that last round of cocktails seems like a bad idea.

Louis somehow manages to convince Zayn he’s fine to go to the loo on his own, and makes it across the room without incident. It’s not until he’s got himself locked in the bathroom stall that he realizes just how drunk he is. It’s not a big leap from that point until he starts thinking about nights out with Nick. The way they would dance together and embarrass their friends, quick handies in the loo when they both got too drunk and too worked up. There was more than one occasion over their years together that Nick would have to drag Louis home after a few too many drinks. Once he starts thinking about Nick he can’t stop and he’s maybe crying a little, but that’s to be expected, right? 

He vaguely hears someone say his name, and then a knock on the door. “Louis, is that you? Are you okay?”

Louis fumbles with the lock and the door falls open. There, in the dingey men’s room of the cheesiest dance club in London, is bartender Liam from his mum’s pub. “Hello, bartender Liam. What are you - you - what’re you doing in the - Funkyyyyyy Buuuuuddha?”

Liam laughs, and even as drunk as he is, Louis can’t help but notice how it lights up his face. “I’m just out with a friend. Thought I saw you walk by earlier. What are you doing locked in the toilet?”

Louis sighs and grabs the top of the door frame to keep from falling over. He really is quite drunk. “I’m trying to figure out why God killed my husband.”

“And how’s that working out for you?” Liam asks, trying too hard to sound casual.

“Not very well,” Louis replies. “Maybe I’m being punished for something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, Liam. Maybe for being a smartass all my life? Or maybe for being too pretty. The only thing I know for sure is that my husband is dead and everything sucks.”

“Well, you _are_ very pretty,” Liam murmurs.

“What?”

“My girlfriend dumped me six months ago, which doesn’t compare, I know. But she left me for my best friend, who _also_ happens to be a girl and also my ex, so. “

“Wow,” Louis says, still confused. “That _really_ sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Louis leans forward and puts a hand on Liam’s shoulder to steady himself. “Sometimes I worry about being alone forever. Do you ever wonder if you’ll find somebody else to love?”

Liam shakes his head with a chuckle. “No, not really.” He runs a hand over the top of his shaved head. “I think I maybe repel the people I’m most attracted to.”

“Aww, Liam,” Louis slurs, dragging out his name as he starts to sway just a bit. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Then he throws up all over Liam’s shoes.

**

Louis’ vaguely aware of Liam offering to help get him home, but beyond that, the rest of the night is a complete blur. He’ll have to try and remember to replace Liam’s shoes.

He’s awoken by the sound of his cell phone chirping from the bedside table. “Hello,” he croaks over the line when he’s fumbled enough to answer the call.

“Rise and shine,” Niall crows. "Merry Christmas!"

“Stop yelling at me.”

“Awww, does ickle Louis have a hangover?”

“Not all of us are blessed with the blood of the Irish, Nialler. What _happened_ last night?”

“Tequila, mate. Brutal.”

“Ugh,” Louis groans. “I’m not leaving this bed at all today.”

“Tsk, tsk, Lou. Aren’t you expecting a letter today?” He just makes out the sound of Niall cackling before he’s up and out of the bed, stumbling into his trackies and pulling a baggy jumper over his head. He doesn’t even bother with his shoes as he races out the door and down three flights of stairs to his post box. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knows there is no post today because it’s Christmas. But Nick said there would be a letter, so he goes anyway.

He fumbles with the lock and has to shuffle through a stack of junk mail (because it’s been a few days since he checked the post) before he finds the letter. 

_Louis,_

_Remember, every proper rave nana needs to look their best. Go buy yourself a knockout outfit - you’ll need it when my next letter comes. And listen, I know you hate your job, but I’ll help. Look for a sign. You’ll know what to do._

_Love you,_

_N_

**

Sometimes, Louis’ imagination gets the best of him. He lays in bed at night thinking of Nick, and it’s like Louis’ thoughts just make Nick appear, right there in their bedroom. Sometimes he sees Nick standing in the bathroom, fixing his ridiculous quiff at the vanity while Louis stands at the sink, cleaning his teeth. Or in the closet, scrambling to get into his skinnies and tshirt so he can rush out the door on his way into the studio for work. 

“I still feel you around,” Louis whispers into the dark room. “You’re still here, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t get an answer, not that he was really expecting one.

**

The restaurant where Louis has been working for the better part of the last three years to supplement his part time teaching job, is in a fairly pretentious part of the city. Louis hates it, but the tips are generally pretty good, and his boss had been really good to him through Nick’s illness, letting him take time when he needed it. 

Apparently that kindness doesn’t extend to Louis being rude to his customers. 

By the time Ben has dragged him out into the back alley, most of the restaurant was consumed in hushed whispers over the shouting match Louis was having with the couple at table sixteen.

“This is the third time this week, Louis -”

“That man was a complete prick to me -”

“Louis.”

He feels his whole body concede in defeat. “I’m sorry.”

Ben sighs. “I know you’ve been dealing with a lot, Lou, but I can’t allow this to continue. Can you understand that?”

“Yeah. I’ll just...get my things. Thanks, Ben, for everything.”

Louis turns in his apron and retrieves his coat from the back office. He makes his way back to his flat, kicking off his shoes and falling back onto the sofa, still in his uniform. Looking over to the side table, he sees the picture of Nick and himself that he keeps there. It was taken at Henry and Dave’s wedding, and they’re both in suits, ties loose and top buttons undone. It’s probably his favorite picture of the two of them. He pulls it into his lap and lays down, curling himself around the frame as if it were Nick himself, and lets himself cry until he falls asleep. 

**

_Spring..._

Before Louis realizes that the time has passed, it's March. There haven’t been any more letters from Nick, and he tries really hard not to dwell on it. He’s been working at the pub with his mum, waiting tables during the dinner hour, mostly to keep himself occupied. He’s still teaching two or three days a week, but the more time that passes, the more he thinks it will never happen.

It’s nearly St. Patrick’s Day when a letter finally appears, delivered by a middle-aged man dressed as a leprechaun. 

“So, do you not want your song, then?” the man asks when Louis snatches the envelope from his hands.

“Oh my god, no.”

“But I was supposed to sing a song.”

Louis looks up and gives him his most scathing look and slams the door. 

_Louis,_

_Hey rave nana! Karaoke this month! Perform, and you never know, you might be rewarded._

_P.S. I love you…_

“No,” Louis says, even as he can hear Nick’s voice inside his head saying _Oh, yes!_. “Absolutely not. Last time was a complete disaster.”

It was about six months before Nick fell ill, when they’d last gone to karaoke. Louis hadn’t wanted to go at all. He’d had a horrible week between the restaurant and the school, and he’d just wanted to go home and put his feet up, maybe catch up on some of the footy he’d missed all week. But Nick had insisted, had made the plans without even _discussing_ it with Louis first.

Needless to say, Louis had been a bit of a prick about the whole thing. He barely spoke to Nick during dinner and refused to hold his hand on the walk to the club. It’s just that Nick always did things like that, making Louis go out and be social when he’d rather just crawl into a hole and hide for a bit. 

Nick had done one of his favorite numbers, Louis doesn’t even remember what song it was now. But when he’d finished, Nick had goaded Louis into singing a song as well. And it’s not like Louis had never performed in front of a crowd - he’d auditioned for bloody X-Factor when he was eighteen - it’s just. He hadn’t even wanted to go. 

When he’d walked up on the stage, it was like he had something to prove. Louis did his best Beyonce, a cheeky take on Bootylicious, just to stick it to his husband. Perhaps the strutting around and dance moves were a bit much, because Louis got his foot tangled up in a bunch of cords behind a speaker and actually fell off the stage. He’d broken his nose and ended up in the A&E.

It was hardly his proudest moment.

He recalls it again to Zayn and Perrie at lunch a week after the letter arrives. 

“I was so mad at him,” Louis laments. “It seems so silly now, when I think about it. We fought all the time, and I just feel like I wasted so much of our time together being angry at him for one thing or another.”

“Married people fight, Lou,” Perrie says, looping her arm through his as the make their way from the restaurant back out onto the street. “It’s what we do.”

“Yeah, but it was more like an artform with us.”

Zayn puts a hand around Louis’ shoulder and pulls him close. “No, Lou. You can’t beat yourself up about things that are in the past. Nick knew you loved him, and he loved you more than anything else in the world.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, Lou. More than Beyonce, even.”

**

The bar is packed for Louis’ return to karaoke. It’s not surprising, considering he’d invited nearly everyone he knows, just for moral support. Christ, even Liam the bartender is here, and Louis has barely managed to map out a tentative friendship with him in the last few months. Liam is easy to talk to, and he laughs at Louis’ dumb jokes. Louis can be awful when he’s in a mood, but Liam is never anything but nice to him; he doesn’t expect anything from Louis. It’s refreshing to be around someone who’s not always looking at Louis like he’s broken.

Zayn and Perrie are at a table near the front with Niall, who’s chatting up some big, gorgeous bloke that Louis thinks might be the club owner. It wouldn’t be the first time Niall had gone home with a bloke, but Louis’ never seen him look at anyone quite the way he’s looking at this fellow right now.

Louis’ mum and Lottie come in just as he’s getting ready to take the stage, both fresh from the pub and offering up hugs and kisses for good luck. 

He’s bricking it, really. Louis used to love performing, but he’d sort of put that dream to rest after his failed X-factor audition. He’d loved karaoke nights with Nick and their friends; they’d done it nearly every month in the time they’d been together until the last couple of years when Nick’s night time radio show had started up. He hasn’t sung in public at all since their last trip to karaoke, and that was a complete disaster. 

But, Nick had asked him to do this. Had wanted it enough that he put it in a letter before he died. Louis steels himself and steps onto the small stage as the music cues up, trying to imagine that he’s singing just for Nick.

_“Well sometimes I go out by myself and I look across the water  
And I think of all the things, what you're doing and in my head I make a picture.”_

God, why did he choose this fucking song? He can’t stop thinking about those weeks after they’d first met, Louis back in London with his mum and sisters, while Nick had been on holiday, visiting his own family at their farm just outside of Glasgow. There’s no way he’ll make it through this without crying. It’s like all he can see is an empty room, Nick sitting at a table out in the middle with a huge grin on his face and his ridiculous quiff flopping over to one side.

_“'Cos since I've come on home, well my body's been a mess_  
And I've missed your stupid hair and the way you like to dress  
Won't you come on over, stop making a fool out of me  
Why won't you come on over Valerie, Valerie?” 

He trails off at the end of the verse, his voice rough in his throat and tears stinging his eyes.

The applause starts slowly, but it’s not long before everyone is clapping. Louis laughs, blinking back his tears and giving a little wave. He feels lighter somehow, now that he’s done it. He smiles at the voice in the back of his head that sounds a lot like Nick saying _Knew you could do it, love_.

**

Louis has spent the better part of an hour making his way around the room to chat with everyone who was able to come down tonight. Niall introduces him to the bloke from earlier, who’s called Bressie. Apparently, he’s also from Mullingar in Ireland, where Niall grew up, and had been in school a few years ahead of Niall’s brother, Greg. Louis thinks it’s crazy, sometimes, how small the world really is, where you can move so far away from home and still find someone you know. However crazy it might be, it seems only natural that these two would meet up again, here and now. And by the time Louis is sat in the corner chatting with Pixie and Gillian, who never miss out on a chance for karaoke, Niall and Bressie are wrapped around each other and snogging their faces off. 

“Get it, Niall,” Pixie crows and wolf-whistles at the two. Gelz just laughs and turns to Louis. “Going to fetch another drink, babe, can I get you anything?”

“Nah, I’m alright. Thanks.”

The girls get up and head to the bar, just as Liam slides into the seat across from Louis.

“You sounded great,” he says, his eyes crinkling up as he smiles.

“I know,” he replies, cheeky. “But, alas, I fear my performing days are behind me. Why aren’t you up there? Afraid you’ll make an arse of yourself?” He’s teasing, a bit, and he hopes Liam can see that.

“Ah, no,” Liam chuckles, scrubbing a hand over his face before looking back at Louis. “I don’t really do that anymore.”

“What? Performing? Or making an arse of yourself?”

Liam just grins and shakes his head. “I didn’t say anything before, because I wasn’t sure, but. I sort of. I remember you?”

“Well, I should hope so,” Louis answers, a little confused. “Since I just saw you _yesterday_.”

“No, that’s.” Liam takes a breath, suddenly apprehensive. “From X-factor. I remember you.”

Louis is dumbfounded, to be honest. “But. I didn’t even make it to bootcamp.”

“I auditioned the same day as you,” Liam says, quick and obviously nervous. “I managed to make it to judges houses before I got sent home.”

“Liam. I had no idea.”

“Yeah, I just. I tried to find you, after your audition. I just.” He smiles at Louis, then, and there’s a warmth in his eyes that Louis is becoming very familiar with. “I’d wanted to tell you that I thought you were great. So. I’m telling you now, I guess. Back then, tonight. You were great, Louis.”

“Well, then,” Louis says, a genuine smile on his lips. “Thanks, Liam.” Louis’ not naive. He can see in the way Liam looks at him sometimes that he’s probably got a crush on him. He doesn’t really want to encourage it, but Liam’s just so bloody _nice_. Normally, Louis would just be mean to try and deter him, but he genuinely _likes_ Liam. Just not in the way he thinks Liam might be hoping for.

“Look,” Liam says. “If you ever just want to get out, or just, do anything? Give me a call, yeah?”

“Sure,” he replies, against his better judgement.

Liam’s grin makes a return appearance as he says, “And just so you know, I’m not looking for a ‘thing’. I’m just. I’m flirting in good faith.”

Louis laughs at that, which makes Liam smile even harder, his eye crinkles even more pronounced.

“I appreciate that, Liam. Maybe we could go to the footie, or something.”

“What, Arsenal? And betray your precious ManU?”

“Someone’s been paying attention.”

“I always pay attention to the things you say, Louis.” He clears his throat and looks away for a minute. 

“Anyways,” Louis says. “I figure I can never have too many friends, right?”

“Right,” Liam chuckles. “Even really weird friends, joined together by self-pity, bitterness, and vomit.”

“I’d like us to be friends,” Louis says, smiling.

“Me too.”

**

Louis answers the doorbell to see the delivery boy from the dry cleaners just around the corner. He’d completely forgotten in the karaoke excitement that he’d dropped a few things off to be cleaned last week. 

The one thing he’s certain of, though, is that Nick’s leather jacket was not among the things he’d taken in.

When he peels back the protective plastic, he sees an envelope pinned to the collar. The note on the front reads, _We found the envelope in the jacket pocket_.

He hastily rips open the envelope, forgetting to wonder how Nick’s jacket made its way to the cleaners, and finds familiar handwriting.

_Louis,_

_My leather jacket is for you. I always loved the way it looked on you. But the rest of my things, you don’t need them, darling. Make some space for yourself in the bloody flat. Go on. It’s time, love._

_P.S.  
I love you…_

He spends the next two days, packing and boxing all of Nick’s clothes and shoes and other things, not quite sure what to do with it all. Some things he knows he’ll send to Nick’s parents up in Scotland. The rest, he supposes, will go to charity or summat. 

When he’s done, the flat looks so empty. But the space that’s taken over inside Louis’ chest feels a little more full. He’s not really sure how he should feel about that.

**

“I don’t get it, Louis.” Liam shakes his head, chuckling as Louis spreads out a blanket with the picnic lunch he’d purchased on the way over here. “You asked me to have a picnic lunch with you at the National Cemetery? Doesn’t that seem a bit morbid?”

“Nick used to say it was a nice way to honour the dead. To show them how well we’re doing.” He doesn’t miss the way Liam’s face falls at the mention of Nick’s name, even though he’s quick to school his features. “Sorry that I bring him up so much.”

“It’s alright. I understand.” Liam looks a bit like a puppy who’s been kicked, and it makes him feel a little bit sick. Liam should never have to be sad about anything.

Louis looks around, uncomfortable, and spots an elderly couple a few rows away, arm in arm as they look at their map of the grounds. “Now, there’s an honest to God couple, right there. They’ve probably been together since the floods.”

Liam huffs out a bitter laugh. “We’re so arrogant aren’t we? So afraid to age that we do anything we can to prevent it.” Louis’ not sure what Liam’s talking about, but he’s so serious right now that Louis can’t help but pay attention. 

Liam smiles, a soft smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes when he continues, “We don’t realize what an honour and privilege it is, to grow old with someone.”

“You’re pretty great, Liam Payne.”

“Thanks, Tommo.”

“Can I ask you a favor?” Louis didn’t even realize until just now that this is why he’d wanted to see Liam today.

“Anything,” Liam replies.

“I’ve started packing up Nick’s things. I thought it might be easier if someone who didn’t know him could get rid of them for me.”

“I’d be happy to help you get rid of Nick.”

Louis laughs out loud and gently shoves at Liam’s shoulder. “Wanker!”

“What? I’m only joking, Lou.”

“Thanks again,” Louis says, and he’s grateful for the happy smile he gets in return.

**

Realistically, Louis knows he’s dreaming. The same way he always knows he’s dreaming when he feels Nick in their bed lately. It doesn’t change how real it seems, how warm Nick’s arms feel wrapped around him. 

“It’s been so long since someone held me this way,” he murmurs into his pillow, smiling and scooting back into the heat of Nick’s chest.

He can feel Nick’s breath on the back of his neck, his skin pebbling in its wake. “D’you find a new husband yet?” Nick asks, a teasing smile in his voice.

“Shut up, you arse.” God, he’s missed this, the easy, teasing banter they used to share. “Where have you been? I haven’t been feeling you around, lately.”

Nick scoffs. “Oh, please. I have been _so around_.”

He takes a deep breath and sighs, sinking further into Nick’s arms. “I can feel you hugging me.”

“That’s because I am.”

“I miss you.”

Louis knows it’s a dream, but he’s going to enjoy it for as long as it lasts.

**

_Summer..._

The package that arrives in the post is unexpected. There’s an entire portfolio of travel documents, and three plane tickets, one each for Louis, Zayn, and Niall, round trip from London to Glasgow. The address printed on the portfolio leads him to an agency near Dalston Kingsland station, and he’s brought Perrie with him for moral support, since Zayn and Niall are both at work.

When they walk into the office, there’s a pleasant looking middle-aged woman at the desk. “Are you Barbara?” Louis asks.

“I am,” she replies. “Can I help you with something?”

“I hope so.” Louis hands her the folder.

She opens it and gasps. Looking up at him with tears starting in the corners of her eyes, she asks, “You’re him. You’re his Louis?”

Louis grants her a watery smile, and Perrie asks, “He was here?”

Barbara nods and reaches for a box of tissues. 

**

“You’re going on _vacation_?” Jay asks. And really, Louis loves his mum, but he’s not sure she understands just how amazing this is.

“It’s a _trip_ ,” Louis emphasizes, rolling his eyes in Lottie’s direction as they get the pub set up for the evening. “Nick planned it, all by himself, for me and Zayn and Niall. Isn’t that incredible?”

Jay turns to grab some silverware from the table behind her. “Is this really the best time for a vacation?”

“Nick made all the arrangements, Mum. I _have_ to go.”

“Have you spoken to Liam? I thought you two had been spending time together.”

Louis sighs, hoping that Liam can’t hear their conversation from the back room where he’s currently doing inventory. “We’re friends, _just friends_. Why are you being so negative about this?”

“I’ve stood by and not said anything about all of this, poppit. I just. I think it needs to stop. It’s not healthy for you.” Louis groans and turns to set up the next table. “I mean it, Louis. Nick can’t keep this up forever, can he? His life ended, and so will his letters. At some point, you’re going to have to learn to face life on your own.”

“It was a _gift_ ,” he says, sharp and cold. “From Nick. And how can you say that? My husband was thirty years old. He wasn’t supposed to die.”

“But he did,” Jay states, gentler than before. “And it was awful. But his death is a part of your life now, darling, and eventually you need to deal with that.”

“I’m dealing with it. _I am_.”

“How?” she asks, taking Louis’ face in her hands. “By waiting for letters from your dead husband?”

Louis pulls away and sits in the nearest chair, folding his hands on the table top.

“When your father left, Louis, I had five children to support -”

“Well, excuse me for not having any children.” Louis knows he’s being petulant, but he hates feeling attacked by his own mother. Especially now.

“That’s not what I meant, pet, and you know it. All I’m saying is, I did what I had to and got on with my life.”

“It’s different for me, Mum. My husband died. He was taken from me; he didn’t want to leave.”

Louis can tell the moment that the words are out that he shouldn’t have said it.

“Yes, my husband chose to leave,” his mum replies, voice like steel in her throat. “Because it’s so much easier to be abandoned by choice, is it?”

They stare at each other, both sad and still a little angry.

Jay looks away first. “I’ve said my peace. I won’t say anymore.”

It’s just then that Lottie and the girls walk over, carrying everyone’s lunch. They start setting plates up around the table and Lottie asks, “So, where’s Nick sending you?”

Louis gives her a grateful smile, and launches into an explanation of his full itinerary.

**

Louis loves Scotland in the summer. Everything is so much greener this time of year, and the air smells fresh, even in Glasgow, in a way that London never is. He’s missed this place, knows they should have come to visit more often. If only their lives hadn’t gotten so busy.

If only.

There’s a car waiting to take them to the cottage Nick had reserved for the week. Zayn and Niall are having a somewhat heated conversation in the back seat about what they’ll do for dinner tonight, of all things, but Louis can only take in the sights out the side window as they make their way away from the city and into the rolling Scottish countryside.

Nick had never lived here. His father had always wanted to live in the country, so when Nick left Uni to move to London, his parents had both retired and bought a small, working farm about an hour north of Glasgow. Louis and Nick had been up to visit a few times over the years, but Nick hated feeling like he was so far away from civilization that he couldn’t ever stand to be there more than a couple of days at a time. Louis had always felt like maybe Nick’s parents didn’t like him all that much, like it was his fault that Nick hardly ever came ‘round. As if it had nothing to do with the near six hour train trip, or having to pay for airfare when they could barely make rent in the early years. Not to mention when Nick’s dad fell ill and wasn’t able to make the trip to London anymore.

Louis supposes he’ll have to pay a call while he’s here. He’s just not sure what he’ll say to them after all this time.

The car rolls to a stop in front of a charming, two-story stone cottage. There’s a small garden full of flowers and hedgerow in the front, and what looks like a huge willow tree in the back. He’s not sure how Nick found this place. It’s absolutely _perfect_.

“Wow,” Zayn whispers as he comes up behind where Louis has stopped to stare at the house. 

“I know.”

“Well, don’t just stand around,” Niall says as he pushes his way past both of them. “Let’s have a look at the inside!”

“Did he really just leave us to fetch the luggage?” Louis asks, mildly put out.

“Typical,” Zayn retorts.

They’ve just managed to free all of their bags from the boot and tip the driver, when they hear Niall call to them from inside.

“Lou! There’s a letter here!” Niall shouts as both Louis and Zayn clamor to get in the door.

Louis reaches for the later, but Niall snatches it away. “S’not for you, ye wanker. It’s for Zayn.”

Zayn fumbles in his haste to open the envelope, and then reads the note aloud. “Hey there, pretty boy, Make sure my Louis has a good time. Make sure you and Pezza do everything you want to do, when you want to do it. Make sure my husband gets out and does things, maybe take him fishing or summat. And give him a big hug for me, a’right? Love you all, Nick xx”

“Oh my god,” Louis groans. “He’s joked about taking me fishing _forever_. I doubt very much he ever once stepped foot on a fishing boat.”

Niall laughs and looks around. “I bet he’s left one for me. Wonder where it might be hiding?”

“Kitchen,” Zayn and Louis say in unison, cracking up at how obvious it is.

They hear Niall whoop from the other room, and he crows, “Found it!”

He comes rushing back in the room just as Louis is asking, “Well? What does it say?”

”Nialler,” Niall reads aloud, near cackling in his excitement. “Take Louis to the Niblick. It’s the only pub I know in the area, but there’s always plenty of great music and beautiful people. You deserve all the awards, you and Zayn both, for always being there for Louis. There’s no one else in the world I would trust to watch out for him. Love you, Grim.” 

Niall sighs and folds the letter, carefully sliding it back into its envelope. “I don’t know how you do this,” he says to Louis. Louis just shrugs in response, because he’s not really sure either. He loves Nick’s letters, goes crazy with the waiting, sometimes, for the next one to arrive. But it also hurts, reopening the wounds on his heart before they even have a chance to start healing.

“Thank you both,” he says softly, the sudden tightness in his throat making it difficult to speak. “I don’t know if I could get through any of this without the two of you.”

“We are pretty amazing,” Niall answers, earning a smack on the arm from Zayn and a real laugh from Louis. In this one moment, Louis thinks that maybe everything will eventually be okay.

**

The pub is dark and crowded when they get there, but they manage to find a quiet table tucked back in a corner near the bar. Nick was right, though, there are lots of beautiful people, including the bloke who’s currently up on the stage, sitting on a barstool and singing along with an acoustic guitar. 

“Wow,” Niall says, chin practically on the floor. “He’s pretty.”

“Not really my type,” Zayn replies. “But I suppose, if I was into guys, he’s nice to look at.”

Louis catches himself staring. The singer can’t be much older than them, maybe even a little younger. His brown hair is shaggy and curled around his ears and the back of his neck, and Louis can’t help the flare of heat in his stomach when he thinks about having his fingers tangled up in it. It’s the first time in years that he’s thought that way about anyone other than Nick. It’s a little unnerving, if he’s being honest.

“Not sure that’s the type of souvenir my husband had in mind when he sent us on this trip,” he says, laughing and hoping Zayn and Niall miss the nervous edge to it.

“Really, mate?” Zayn asks. “Because I think that he’s _exactly_ the kind of souvenir you need.”

Louis looks back to the stage, where the song is coming to an end, and the handsome singer is charming the crowd with a little wave as he sets his guitar on the stand to take a short break.

“How long has it been?” NIall asks, his eyes comically tracking the singer as he walks in their direction and toward the bar. Louis doesn’t blame him a bit, he can’t tear his eyes away either.

“How long’s _what_ been?” he answers with another question, shooting Niall a confused look.

Niall waggles his eyebrows and waves his fingers in Louis’ direction. “You know. How long’s it _been_?”

Zayn chuckles and Louis just rolls his eyes, because leave it to Niall to bring the conversation back around to either food or sex.

Niall puts both hands on Louis’ shoulders and starts to push him out of the booth. “That’s it. You’re going over there and you are talking to him, mate.”

Louis shakes his head. There is no way he’s going over there. Absolutely not.

“C’mon, Lou. You just heard him sing - go tell him how much you like his music! You know about music. You can do this.”

“Seriously,” Zayn chimes in. “You were married to a fucking DJ; you can talk to a stranger about music.”

They’re both pushing him out of the booth and onto his feet. “Do it for me, mate,” Niall teases. “I’m a one man man these days, or else I’d fight ye fer him.”

Louis chuckles nervously and takes a deep breath. “Okay,” he says, straightening his shirt and wiping his palms on the front of his jeans. _I can totally do this_ , he thinks to himself. How hard can it be, right?

He gets halfway to the bar when he sees two pretty young girls approach the singer, and Louis turns back toward the table. “What are you doing?” Zayn asks.

“I’m an old married widow,” Louis whines. _Fuck_ , he used to have game. He’s got nothing now. He wants to sit and sulk in his beer, but Niall and Zayn are shooing him back towards the bar.

Niall stands and starts walking Louis back toward the bar. “No more whinging, Tommo. That boy is sex on legs, and you have the best ass in this room. Now go get him!”

Okay. _Deep breath_. Okay.

“Hi,” Louis says. He suddenly can’t control the urge to giggle. “I just wanted to say that I really liked your music.”

When the singer looks up, Louis is nearly breathless, what, with the big green eyes and dimples and disarming smile that’s suddenly focused on him. He starts giggling again. _God_ , this is so embarrassing. “You’re beautiful. I mean. Your music. It’s beautiful.”

“Thanks, mate,” the singer answers, and his voice is deeper than Louis was expecting, slow and sweet like honey. He looks a little sheepish, or maybe he’s just flirting, tilting his head downward and looking up at Louis through his thick eyelashes. “What’s your name, then?”

“Louis.”

“Harry. You’re British?”

“So are you.” Apparently, Louis has forgotten how to flirt in the time he was married. 

“I am,” he says. “And what brings you to Scotland, Louis?”

“Holiday. With the lads.” Louis turns and points to where Zayn and Niall are sitting, only to find them both grinning widely, waving at Louis’ new friend.

“Excellent,” Harry replies. “Listen, I’ve got a couple more songs to do. Will you stay and have a listen? I always save my favorites for the end of my set.”

“Sure.” Louis feels almost giddy. It’s a kind of excitement and anticipation he hasn’t felt in ages. 

“Great,” Harry says, smiling bright enough to bring his dimples out fully, and yeah, Louis can definitely get on board with this. “So, I’ll see you after, then?”

Louis smiles back, brushing his fringe out of his eyes. “Definitely.”

He watches as Harry walks back toward the stage and does a mental fist pump, just as Niall and Zayn come up behind him and pat him on the back. 

“Well?” Zayn asks.

“He wants to see me after,” Louis replies, biting back a smile.

Niall claps him on the shoulder and says, “Knew you still had it in you, Tommo.”

Louis thinks he might be right, as Harry starts his intro for the next song. “I’d like to dedicate this next number to my new friend, Louis. It’s a favorite of mine. I hope you’ll like it.”

Harry starts to strum out the first few chords on his guitar, and Louis immediately regrets every decision he’s made tonight, so far. As Harry plays through the opening verse, Louis is transported back in time to a night nearly eight years ago, on a muddy festival field only a handful of miles from where he’s standing right now.

_Louis’ been waiting for this set all week. Seeing Amy Winehouse live was the main reason he’d agreed to tag along with Niall and Zayn to T in the Park. They’d spent the better part of the day Wednesday on the train just to get to Glascow, where they’d all three bunked with a mate they knew from uni, just so they could get an early shuttle to set up their campsite. It was worth it though, now that he was standing only a few meters from the stage listening to the opening chords of Valerie._

_He’s in shorts and wellies, but he’s bundled up in a leather jacket to stave off the Scottish summer chill. He’s barely taken it off since that really fit bloke with the big smile and even bigger hair had put it on him Thursday night. Louis takes a sip of his beer and starts to sway with the music. Niall elbows him in the ribs and points over to their left, where someone is pushing their way through the crowd._

_It’s him - the leather jacket savior - and he’s grinning widely and sort of dancing along to the music as he makes his way over, never once taking his eyes away from Louis’ face. He’s singing along, and Louis barks out a laugh as the bloke shimmies his way over until he’s right there standing in front him._

_“Nice jacket,” he says, smirking as he reaches up to thumb at the collar._

_“Thanks,” Louis replies. He’s smiling so hard he can feel his nose all scrunched up where he’d burned it a bit from the sun earlier in the day. “Some pretentious wanker gave it to me.”_

_“I’m Nick.”_

_“Louis,” he answers. He passes his beer to Niall, turns back and reaches out to brush a hand down Nick’s arm, doesn’t even protest when Nick’s hands fall to Louis’ hips, pulling him closer. “Was starting to think I’d dreamed you up.”_

_“Your imagination never could have done justice to this hair,” Nick says. “And my imagination could _never_ recreate that ass.”_

_Louis laughs out loud and goes up on his toes, throwing his arms around Nick’s neck and kissing him hard on the mouth._

“I need to go,” Louis mutters as he comes back to the present. “I can’t. I - I need to get out of here.”

He fumbles his way through the crowd and out into the cool night air, not sparing a glance back for Harry, still singing on the stage. It’s only a few seconds before Zayn and Niall catch up with him where he’s leaning against the wall, sucking in huge gulps of air in an effort to quell the overwhelming anxiety he’s suddenly feeling. Zayn pulls him into a hug, doesn’t even need to ask what happened to set him off.

“Why does he want me to remember all these things that make it harder to move on? Why did he send me here? It’s cruel.”

“Oh babe,” Zayn says. “I don’t think he mean to be cruel.”

“Then what _did_ he mean?” 

He feels Niall behind him, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “Dunno, mate. C’mon, let’s get out of here, yeah?”

**

"I can't believe you _actually_ made me go fishing."

Louis is currently sat on a very small boat in the middle of a lake, somewhere in Scotland. He’s not exactly sure _where_ the fuck they are, but it’s cold, and the damp air is doing absolutely nothing to preserve his fringe. 

“Well,” Niall replies. “Nick asked, didn’t he? Didn’t seem right to not try, at least.”

Louis hates Niall’s idea of logic.

Zayn nudges him with his elbow. “I still think you should try to find Harry.”

“And do what, exactly? I left without saying anything. Not a great first impression.”

“Maybe he thinks you’re mysterious.”

“Don’t push him, Zayn,” Niall chimes in. “If he’s not ready, he’s not ready.” Louis nods and smiles. He loves Niall. Niall is his favorite. “Although, if memory serves me correctly, Lou, the longer _you_ go without sex, the meaner and bitchier you get.”

Scratch that. He doesn’t love Niall at all.

Louis sighs, looks up at the sky, and shivers as he pulls his jacket closer around him. “I’m really mad at Nick,” he confesses.

“Well,” Zayn says. “Maybe that’s why he did all of this. You have to stop wanting him at some point.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Louis can’t imagine that he’ll ever stop missing Nick or wanting him to be here. He’s not sure it’s even a possibility.

Just then, the reel on the fishing pole they’d left leaning against the edge of the boat starts to go crazy. 

“Oh my god, Louis! You’ve got a fish!” Niall is shouting and stumbling to his feet, which makes the boat start to rock. Louis and Zayn are both fumbling to get a hold of the fishing pole, Louis getting there first and turning the reel, somehow managing to knock Zayn over into the bottom of the boat and inflating his life jacket. Just when Louis thinks maybe he’s gotten the hang of this fishing business, the line snaps and the fish swims away.

It’s right about this time that the three of them notice that they’ve somehow knocked the oars out of the boat and well out of reach, leaving them stranded.

An hour later, they’re still sitting side by each in the boat.

“I still think that one of us should swim for shore to get help, and it should be the one of us who’s already inflated.”

Zayn, incredulous, says, “Niall, you know I can’t swim!” He reaches over and pulls the cord to inflate Niall’s life vest. “There, now _you_ can swim ashore!”

“Wanker!” Niall shouts.

Louis has definitely had enough for one day. “Will you two stop? You’re acting like a couple of babies.”

“Oh, shut up,” Niall mutters, reaching across and pulling Louis’ inflation cord.

Louis sighs. “Maybe eventually we’ll drift toward the shore.”

“Great. Perrie will never forgive me if I’m not back for her appointment on Tuesday.”

“What are you even talking about?” Louis snaps.

Zayn gives him a sheepish look, but smiles when he answers. “I wasn’t going to say anything until we got back, but. Perrie’s pregnant. I’m going to be a dad.”

Louis is stunned into silence as Niall loudly congratulates their friend. “When’s the baby coming?”

“March,” Zayn says, awe clearly written all over his face.

Niall claps him on the back. “That’s perfect. She can still sing at my wedding.” He’s grinning from ear to ear.

“Your _what_?” Maybe Louis is a little bit in shock and unable to control his tone. But really? This is a lot of information all at once.

“Bressie asked; I said yes. We’re doing it New Year’s Eve. When you know, you know. Right?”

Louis knows he should be happy for his friends. And he is. Really.

It’s just, he’s not sure he’s ever felt as alone in the world as he does right now, in this boat with his two best friends.

It’s nearly dusk, and it’s not long before they see the light from the red rescue boat headed in their direction. Louis doesn’t at all think it’s serendipitous when it turns out that Harry is driving it.

**

“Thanks for inviting me to stay for dinner. That was very kind of you all.” It’s sort of weird seeing cute singer Harry sat at the dining table in their rented cottage. The whole thing is made even more bizarre by the way Niall, and even Zayn, are inadvertently flirting with him. 

“No problem, mate,” Niall chirps. “Zayn always has some new recipe from his mum that he wants to try out, and I generally cook like there’s an army to feed, so.”

Zayn laughs and claps Niall on the back. “He’s got to get in as much practice as he can to feed that fiance of his. Big bloke, Bressie. Likes to eat almost as much as our Nialler does.”

“I can feed my man just fine, thanks. But yer wife’ll be eating for two now. Best prepare yourself fer that.”

Louis chuckles as he watches his friends try to call each other out. Harry’s laughing too, but he seems to only have eyes for Louis. He feels his heart speed up a bit in his chest, and takes a brief, shuddering breath, his eyes locked with Harry’s. It’s funny how even from the other end of the long table, he can still make out that they’re the exact shade of green as the grass in the meadow outside. 

“And what about you, Louis?” Harry asks, smiling just enough to bring out the dimple in his cheek. He looks up at Louis through his lashes, a practiced move, like he knows exactly the kind of effect it has on people. “Are you any good in the kitchen?”

“Oh, I’m _very_ good in the kitchen,” Louis retorts, and promptly slaps a hand over his own mouth, Zayn and Niall cackling as Harry’s shoulders start to shake.

“Sorry,” he continues. “I’m actually a terrible cook. Burned everything I’ve ever tried to make.” He briefly remembers back to his first year or so with Nick, and how Nick had finally begged him to stop trying to burn down their kitchen. Nick had done all the cooking after that. “Lucky I’ve got this lot around to take care of me, I reckon.”

Just then, a crack of thunder hits and rattles the house. The rain has been coming down gently for a while now, but it suddenly seems much louder, the wind blowing it sideways and pattering against the windows. 

“I should maybe head out,” Harry says thoughtfully, looking out the window into the darkened night.

“No way, mate,” Niall says, getting up and starting to clear the dishes. “You’re staying. We’ve got the extra room, and it’s terrible out there. Wouldn’t feel right if we sent you off in this mess.”

“Niall’s right,” Zayn follows, smiling brightly at Louis when he grabs his plate and walks to the sink. “You are absolutely staying here tonight, and we won’t hear otherwise.”

Harry smiles, missing the thunderous look that Louis is giving both of his friends. “Really? That would be great, actually. I could really use a shower, if you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” Zayn and Niall both fumble over each other. “Bathroom’s through there,” Niall says, directing him through the downstairs bedroom. “Plenty of towels and whatever else you might need.” 

“Make yourself at home, mate!” Zayn near shouts as Harry disappears into the other room.

“What, are you _mad_?” Louis whisper-shouts as soon as Harry is out of earshot.

“He’s gonna be here all night,” Niall says to Louis, his smile so bright it’s near splitting his face in two. “All night. You’re welcome.”

Louis throws his napkin at Niall, who just cackles and follows Zayn upstairs.

 _Shit_. What is he supposed to do now?

He takes his time rinsing the dishes in the sink, and then placing them carefully in the dishwasher. He wipes his hands carefully and folds the towel when he’s done, and is momentarily distracted by the sound of the shower still running in the other room. Louis walks quietly into the bedroom to grab the spare blanket from the closet, placing it on the bed, just in case Harry gets cold when he sleeps. He turns and stares at the bathroom door, remembering a time, before Nick, when he wouldn’t have been so nervous around someone he was attracted to. 

But that was a different life. He’s not the same person anymore. Nick had changed Louis’ life in so many ways, but now he's gone and things are changing again, and Louis is left trying to fumble his way through his own life and find a place that fits.

He turns and walks back into the kitchen, grabbing a new bottle of white from the wine fridge in the corner, and a glass from the dish strainer. He’s definitely going to need another drink.

He starts to pour and hears a noise, looking up just in time to see Harry walk past the bedroom door, completely nude. Louis is struck dumb, continuing to pour, even though he’s missed the glass by about three inches. It doesn’t matter. Harry’s bare backside is barely ten feet away, and Louis near shivers at every ripple of Harry’s muscles as he towels himself off. When he turns, Louis can just make out that his left arm and most of his torso is littered with tattoos. He must have made a noise - and who could blame him, really - because Harry looks up, startled.

“Shit, Louis! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you. Give me just a second,” He’s muttering as he fumbles around the room, presumably for his clothes. 

Louis sets down his bottle and reaches for the glass, downing his wine in one go.

When Harry makes his way back out into the kitchen, he’s wearing only a pair of skintight black briefs, and _christ_ , Louis is really not equipped to handle this. 

He knows he’s staring, but he really can’t help it. Harry is just the right amount of lean, the right amount of muscle. The cut of his hip bones makes Louis want to put his hands there, his mouth watering as he holds on for dear life. He has _got_ to get it together. 

“Can I get you a drink?” he asks, cringing internally at the rough huskiness in his voice.

Harry smirks, a crooked sort of thing that doesn’t quite qualify as a real smile. He looks absolutely pleased with himself, and Louis cannot stop staring as Harry’s tongue darts out and swipes across his full bottom lip. “Should I just, like, lick it up off the counter?” 

“What?” Louis asks, startled out of his stupor when he looks down and sees he’s poured half the bottle out onto the counter top. “Oh, hell. Sorry. Let me just -”

Harry’s already there, a towel in hand, dabbing at the spill. Louis can only watch as Harry reaches up behind where he’s standing to pull another glass from the cabinet. His bare chest is only about two inches from Louis’ face, and Louis can’t help but close his eyes and try to steady his breathing. His plan totally fails when he notices that Harry smells like the body wash Louis had left in the shower that morning. 

Louis is totally fucked. Or he could be, if he can just get himself together for two minutes.

Harry pours out the remainder of the bottle into both of their glasses, and hands one of them to Louis. Louis swallows his in one go, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand when he’s done. Harry tries to stifle a laugh as he sips from his glass and then sets it down next to the sink. He looks up at Louis through his lashes and smiles. “So.”

“Oh, bloody hell,” Louis mutters, and promptly throws himself into Harry’s arms, winding his arms up around the back of Harry’s neck and kissing him hard on the mouth. 

“Whoa,” Harry says, chuckling as he pulls away. 

Louis cringes and takes a step back, wrapping his arms around his middle. “Sorry, I just. It’s been a while, and you’re, like, _really fit_. I’m a little out of my depth, here.”

Harry smiles and steps closer, slowly backing Louis up against the counter. “It’s okay, Louis. I like that you’re eager.”

“It’s just that. I haven’t.” Louis shakes his head to clear it of the lust induced fog he seems to be under. “I haven’t done this with anyone but my husband in years, so.”

Harry stops abruptly. “You’re married?”

Louis nods and then shakes his head no. “I was. He died last year.”

“ _Louis._ I’m really sorry.” Harry takes a small step back, putting a few inches of space between them. He looks a little bit lost for words, and Louis misses the cool, confident, sexy Harry from moments before.

“Just. Don’t, okay? I want you, like, I _really_ want you, and it’s been such a long time since I felt anything at all. So don’t feel sorry for me.”

Harry looks at him and smiles, his dimple in full force. “You want me?”

“Yeah.”

There’s a weird sort of static in the air around them, Louis can feel it crackling over his skin, and it feels like he’s going to burn up from the inside out. Harry moves closer, caging Louis in with his hands on the counter on either side of Louis’ hips. He leans forward, gently brushing his nose from Louis’ collar bone to his ear, breathing in as if he can’t live without Louis’ smell. When he gets to his ear, he breathes out through his mouth, sending a shuddering wave through Louis’ body.

“Well then,” Harry says, soft and deep. “What are we going to do about that?”

The noise Louis makes is absolutely undignified, but he can’t be arsed to care. Not when Harry rolls his hips against Louis’ and he can feel how hard Harry is. Knows that Harry can feel how hard Louis is for him. 

“Fuck, Harry.”

Harry cradles Louis’ jaw in both of his hands, and _fuck_ , his hands are so big. All Louis can think about is how they’ll feel on his arse, spreading him open. He whines, low in his throat, and Harry must take that as his cue, because then they’re kissing. 

Harry’s gentle, but forceful. He pushes his tongue inside Louis’ mouth, licking deeper everytime Louis grinds down against his thigh. He’s so different from Nick, which is good, because Louis doesn’t want to think about all the times that came before. He wants to do this with Harry tonight, without the ghosts of the past haunting his every move.

Their kisses are growing more heated with each thrust of Harry’s tongue, and Louis is clawing desperately at Harry’s back. Suddenly, Harry’s hands are gone from Louis face. Louis scrambles to get his arms around Harry’s neck as Harry hefts him up by his bum and wraps Louis’ legs around his hips. “Bed,” he murmurs against Louis’ lips, and all Louis can do is nod.

Later, he’ll remember the way Harry laid him out carefully on the bed, stripping off his own pants, and then Louis’ clothes with painstaking reverence. He’ll remember the way Harry explored his body, taking the time to nip, lick, and kiss every inch of him as if committing it all to memory. He’ll remember how Harry took his time opening him up with his deft fingers, leaving him desperate and shaking when he finally pulled them out to roll on a condom. 

But all he can think about in this moment, when he’s coming apart at the seams as Harry fucks him through his orgasm, is how he never thought he’d get to have this again, never thought he’d want it, and he’s _so, so grateful_. Grateful to Harry for being gentle, but not pitying, to his friends for giving him a little push when he needed it. But most of all, to Nick, for sending him on this trip, and showing him that it’s possible to remember the love they shared, and still move on with his life. It doesn’t have to be one or the other, past or future. 

“Can I ask a favor of you?” Louis asks later. They’re both cleaned up, and settled back into the big four-poster bed, Louis’ head resting on Harry’s chest as he strokes idly over the moth inked onto Harry’s stomach.

Harry’s voice is rough, sated and sleepy, when he answers ‘yes’.

“Can you drive me somewhere tomorrow? There’s someone I need to see, and I can’t ask the lads to go with me.”

Harry looks at him, confused. “Sure. Where am I taking you?”

“To see my husband’s parents. My father in law, he’s been ill for quite some time and can’t travel, and they weren’t able to come to London for the funeral. It doesn’t feel right to come all this way and not pay them a visit.”

He props himself up on an elbow and flicks gently at one of Harry’s nipples, earning him a rumbling laugh. “It’s not too far from here, actually. You might know them. The Grimshaws? Pete and Eileen?”

Harry stills. “Wait. You’re _Nick’s_ Louis?” he says, groaning a little as he flops onto his back and scrubs his hand over his face.

“What, you knew him?”

“I grew up near him, in Cheshire,” Harry explains. “I idolized him as a kid, yeah? And then he was my friend. He - “ He sighs, reaches out to graze his hand down Louis’ cheek. “He was a really good man, and he loved you. More than anything else, he loved you.”

“Harry from Cheshire,” Louis breathes. “He was trying to get you an internship at the station before he got sick.”

“Yeah. I was at Uni in America when I got the news he’d died. I wish I could have made it home for the service. But, that’s sort of how I ended up here, I guess. Couldn’t stand to be quite so far from home, after, so I transferred my credits to Glasgow.”

“He talked about you a lot,” Louis remembers. Young Harold with the curls and the dimples that Nick had always spoken so fondly of. He can’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before now.

“Would you like me to tell you some stories about teenaged Nick?” Harry asks, tucking them both back under the blankets snugly.

“Yeah,” Louis whispers. “I’d like that a lot.”

**

When Harry drops him in front of the Grimshaw’s home, it’s late morning. There’s a layer of fog clinging to the hills in the distance, and the sky is still dawn gray, even though the sun has technically been up for hours. He can see why the Grimshaw’s were drawn to this place, even though he’s acutely aware of the reasons that Nick could never bring himself to stay.

Nick was like the sun. He’d radiated light and warmth, the type that drew people to him like gravity. Louis had been no different, since the first time he’d laid eyes on Nick. He’d known from that first day that Nick was too bright for this place. He'd thrived in London, had built a life full of friendship and love, and Louis had been lucky enough to be a part of it. There were no reminders of Nick in this house, not really, because he'd never belonged here. Not like he did in London.

As it turns out, it didn’t matter in the end. His star had still burned out too soon.

Louis steels himself as he walks toward the door. He straightens his jacket, and then rings the bell.

Nick’s mum looks much the same as she did the last time Louis saw her, shortly after Nick’s diagnosis and before he’d been too weak to make the trip. The lines around her eyes are maybe a bit more pronounced, but that’s to be expected. She opens the door and pulls him into her arms.

“It’s so lovely to see you, darling,” she murmurs, instantly putting Louis at ease. “Come in, come in. Pete’s just in the lounge watching the football.”

It’s been more than a year since Louis has been to this place, but the change in Nick’s dad is remarkable. He’s lost more weight since he was here last, and there’s a walking cane beside his chair, which he uses to help himself stand when Louis follows Eileen into the room.

“Peter, dearest, look who’s come for a visit.”

“Hello, sir,” Louis says, reaching out for a handshake. Nick’s dad pulls him in and hugs him instead, unexpectedly. Louis can’t remember ever having seen him initiate a hug with anyone in all the years he’d known the Grimshaws, not even his own son.

“Hello, son,” Pete answers. “We’ve been waiting for you to come.”

“You have?”

**

They’re sat around the small dining table in the kitchen, a stack of opened letters between them. Louis sips at his tea as Eileen flips through them all, looking for something specific.

“Ah, here it is,” she says finally, unfolding the paper. There’s another envelope with it, still sealed, which she hands to Louis as she starts reading from the paper in her hand.

“When Louis comes to visit, give him this envelope, and show him the place by the big tree out back of the house. You know, the one where I used to go to hide and sulk when you lot first moved here. I always meant to take him out there, but it never seemed that important until now.”

“He knew I’d come,” Louis says, and it sounds like a question, even though he knows there was never any doubt he’d eventually end up here.

“Of course he did, love,” Eileen says. “Such a strong sense of family in both of you. He knew you’d have a hard time when he was gone, knew you’d need time to grieve. That’s why he set all this up, with the letters and all, innit?”

“I suppose, yeah.” He’s still not exactly sure what Nick’s plan is, but he supposes that could be one of the reasons. “Thank you, both, for this.”

“It’s nothing,” Pete says, reaching over and giving Louis’ hand a squeeze where it sits on the table. “You come back and see us whenever you like.”

Louis sighs, shaking his head in disbelief. “I was always afraid that you both hated me. You know, for keeping Nick so far away.”

“Nonsense,” says Eileen. “Nicholas had a life in London that made him happy, and that included you. It’s all we could have ever wanted for him, Louis. You’re a part of this family, and you’ll always be welcome here.”

**

Louis’ sat round back of the barn, on a bench under a small grove of trees. Eileen had laughed and told him _Nick used to sulk everywhere, so I’m not sure what he was on about in that letter_. It was a lovely spot, though, and Eileen had sent him off with a sandwich and some tea in a travel mug, telling him to take as long as he’d like.

He sets his lunch down on the bench beside him, and pulls Nick's letter from his pocket. He turns it over in his hands twice, and then carefully tears open the envelope.

_Hiya, Love,_

_First of all, thanks for coming to see my mum and dad. I told you they didn’t hate you, didn’t I? I just thought, well, the last time I saw them, I had to tell them that I was going to die. I figured maybe they could still have a bit of me in you. Does that sound mad?_

_I've been thinking a lot, ever since our last trip up here. About how our parents thought we were too young, and that we'd burn out before our first wedding anniversary. About the way you looked on our wedding day, in your crisp blue suit that Zayn helped you pick out. How I never needed anything more than to wake up to the smell of your shampoo on the pillows and burned toast in the kitchen._

_But mostly, I've been thinking about that day at T in the Park, when I walked up over the hill and saw you standing at the edge of the car park, looking excited and lost, all at once. The way it felt like my heart had started beating for the first time when you looked at me and smiled. Should have known then that you'd be a pain in the arse. You looked me over from head to toe and called me a pretentious hipster. Do you remember that? I remember your cocky grin when you said it, like you were letting me in on a secret. I don't think I'd ever seen anything more beautiful._

Louis remembers like it was yesterday. The way Nick had thrown his head back and laughed, even though Louis had sort of insulted him. And then, when Louis told Nick that his friends had taken off, and he wasn't exactly sure where he was going, Nick had offered to walk with him for a while.

They talked and talked, and Louis had been fascinated, because he'd never really met anyone who'd talked with their hands as much as Nick. He remembers thinking how _big_ Nick's hands were and wondering what he could do with them if he were ever able to get Nick in his bed. He was so much taller than Louis, and the thought had made him shiver, enough so that, assuming Louis was cold, Nick had slipped off his jacket and given it to Louis to wear. 

By the time they parted ways at the edge of the camping area, Louis hadn't even learned Nick's name, but he knew the first album Nick had ever bought, the first song he ever learned all the words to, and he was already a little bit in love. 

He'd kissed Nick on the mouth and said 'next time we meet, you can introduce yourself proper', and he'd walked away, not even realizing he still had Nick's jacket.

Louis wipes at his eyes with the back of his hand and keeps reading.

_It’s okay to be sad that I’m gone, but I want you to be able to think back and smile when you remember our time together. You see, love, I’m not worried that you won’t remember _me_ ; it’s that boy on the hill you keep forgetting about. The one who still loved to sing, even if his dream hadn’t come true. The one who used to transform his deepest wishes into words on a page. ‘My business is to create’, that’s what you told me. It doesn’t even matter what you do. You changed my world, Louis, and made it so much brighter. That’s what I want you to hold on to. _

_So go home and find it, that one thing that makes you like nobody else. I’ll help. Look for a sign._

_P.S. I love you_

**

So Louis goes home.

He dives into his new task, making lists of all the different career possibilities he can explore. He could try restaurant work again; he’d been good at that before Nick had died. He’d always wanted to be an actor. That was his main reason for wanting to study drama in Uni. Even going back to school seems like a good idea, especially since Louis doesn't think that being a vampire slayer is a realistic possibility.

He ignores his phone completely, not even checking his voicemail. He ignores the calls from his mum, from Niall and Zayn; even Perrie’s attempt to reach him had been left unanswered. 

Louis just. He has no idea what he's doing anymore. 

Before he knows it, three weeks has passed, and Louis is not any closer to figuring out what to do with his life. He's still avoiding everyone, because he doesn't know how to explain how he's feeling. Louis is happy for Niall and Zayn, but he's also jealous that their lives are moving forward when he's still stuck in some weird sort of limbo. He's at a crossroads and has no idea which way to turn.

He's looking for something in the depths of his closet when it happens. 

He's standing on the step stool that Nick had put in Louis' closet after their first year in the flat, when he'd grown tired of having to reach the top shelf every time Louis needed a different pair of shoes or a jumper he'd thrown up there haphazardly. He's trying to get a pair of Vans he'd tossed up there last autumn, so he stretches just a little bit further, and completely loses his footing, falling to the floor and pulling half the contents of the shelf down with him. 

He lands flat on his ass, which is a blessing, really, and does a quick inventory to make sure he's not injured himself. Luckily, the only thing he's hurt is his pride, but he's made a right mess of his closet and and the floor around it. As he starts to toss clothes and shoes aside, he notices a small, blue spiral bound journal with doodles all over the front. In the very center, drawn in purple pen, is a large heart, with the words 'Mr Grimshaw' written across it. 

He hasn't seen it in years, but he remembers exactly what's inside. 

As Louis picks up the journal and starts flipping through the pages, he's flooded with memories of his first few months with Nick. He'd written everything in this notebook: thoughts, feelings, little things Nick had said that Louis had thought important enough to want to keep them forever. At the very back, there's a folded piece of paper, attached to the inside cover by a single piece of sticky tape. He doesn't need to open it to know what's written on the inside. Nick had left it on Louis' bedside table the last time he'd visited Louis at his Uni dormitory.

_When I said I loved you, I was just thinking out loud. It doesn't make it any less true._

Louis had thrown on the first clothes he could find, and run all the way to Nick's flat that he shared with Henry and Gillian. He must have looked a sight when Gelz had let him in, but the look on Nick's face when he walked into the room was the only thing Louis could focus on. He'd thrown himself into Nick's arms and whispered _I love you too, you complete wanker_. 

Two months later, they were engaged, and married only a month after that. Louis has never regretted a single moment.

He scrambles over to his desk and pulls a notebook from the stack of papers on the top. He has to dig through the drawer to find a pen, but when he does, he scribbles a single line at the top of the page.

_Maybe we found love right where we are._

It's not much, but it's a start.

**

_Autumn..._

It's been another week, and he's filled two notebooks with poems and snatches of what might eventually be song lyrics, and Louis is genuinely _excited_ about something he's created for the first time in as long as he can recall. 

The studio where Niall works is about ten minutes from Louis' flat. He hasn't seen or spoken to Niall, or anyone else for that matter, since they'd returned from Scotland, and that was weeks ago. He knows, from the texts and voicemails he's received, that everyone is upset with him, but he's working on it. This is the first step.

Louis walks into the room, clinging to his notebooks, and gives a pitiful wave and half smile when every face in the room turns to look at him. 

"Hiya," he says weakly as Niall clenches his jaw.

“Lads,” Niall says carefully. “Could you give us a mo’?”

Louis’ has obviously interrupted a meeting of some sort, because he recognizes the other three sound engineers that Niall works with, as well as Bressie, and Nialls friend, Ed, who used to play down at the pub, and is now working on recording his first record. Niall must consider Louis’ visit important enough, if he’s willing to take the time out to hear what Louis has to say.

He manages a smile and a hello for each of them as they pass, even Bressie, who levels Louis with a stern gaze and a curt nod of his head. He knows he has a lot to make up for, but Louis’ really hoping that what he’s brought to show Niall will make a difference.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” he says, more to break the silence than an explanation.

Niall, to his credit, doesn’t break Louis’ gaze at all. “It’ll keep,” he answers. “Been bangin’ me head against the wall all day, anyway. Prob’ly best we took a break.”

Louis hugs his books tight to his chest, which garners only a curious glance from Niall. “I’m sorry for all the other stuff too. For not being there the last few weeks.” He takes a deep breath, blowing it out slowly through his mouth and trying to shake off the jitters. He’s trying to figure out how to continue, but Niall beats him to it.

“Yeah, well. You were _supposed_ to be my best man, but you dropped off the face of the earth, and Zayn says he’s too uncomfortable having to speak in front of everyone like that. So now I’m stuck with me brother, who’ll prob’ly be drunk and crying into his beer about how awful his life is long before the ceremony even gets going. And why? Because me best mate couldn’t stand to see me happy? What is it Lou? Were you jealous that all our lives were moving on and you weren’t the center of attention anymore?”

It stings, but it’s the truth, and Louis absolutely deserves it. “Yes,” he answers quietly. “It was awful, and I’m so, so sorry.”

“Really?” Niall replies, shocked. “Shit, Lou, no. C’mere.” He pulls Louis into a hug, and Louis’ has always wondered how someone as lean and wiry as Niall can squeeze him so tight. 

“You were right and I was wrong,” Louis murmurs, “I’m a horrible friend and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Always, Lou. And you know, it’s not to late! You can still be a groomsman with Zayn, just need to get you fitted for yer suit.”

Louis smiles and pulls Niall over to the sofa in the corner. “I’d like that. But can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure, Lou. Anything, you know that.”

“Well,” Louis says, taking another deep breath and running his hand over the cover of the journal that’s barely left his sight for the last two weeks. “I wrote something for you. And Bressie. And I thought, I don’t know. I thought maybe you could use it at the wedding? It’s just words right now, and a bit of melody in my head, but I thought maybe you could help me finish it?” 

He opens the notebook to the first page and hands it to Niall, chewing his finger while Niall reads over the words there.

“Louis,” Niall says. “This is. You wrote this?”

“Yeah. It just sort of happened. I’ve filled two of these notebooks in the last couple of weeks.” His face heats up as Niall starts to flip through the pages, only stopping to read over a few lines here and there.

“There’s a lot of really good stuff here, Lou. We need to show these to somebody.” Niall looks more and more excited as he continues to read. He stands abruptly and walks over to the door, calling out, “Brez! Ed! Get back in here! Need your help with something.”

“What are we doing?” Louis asks.

Niall gives him a beatific smile. “We’re gonna set this to music, and then we’re going to lay down the tracks. And then,” he says with a maniacal laugh. “We’re going to see about turning your new hobby into a proper career.”

They spend the next three hours working out the music and rearranging some of the lyrics to fit with the melody that’s been playing in Louis’ head all week. When they’re done, it’s an honest to god song, with Bressie and Niall on guitar, and Ed singing the vocals. 

Louis’ thinks that maybe he’s going to be okay, after all.

**

“I feel like Nick is guiding me. I mean, I used to write all the time when we were first together, and then I just stopped. I don’t even know why.” 

Louis is sat across the table from Liam at his favorite cafe. It’s warm for this time of year, and he’d wanted to take advantage of the rare London sunshine. He hasn’t seen Liam since before his trip, and he’s been looking forward to catching up, ever since he’d called Liam at the beginning of the week.

“You look great,” Liam says with a smile, his gaze lingering on Louis in that way Liam has that almost makes him feel self-conscious. He’s gotten to know Liam well enough now, though, that he can brush it off smoothly without Liam getting a wounded puppy look on his face.

“Thanks.”

“Of course, I look good too, right?” Liam prods jokingly, and his smile brightens, his eye crinkles on full display, when Louis answers _you always look great, Li_.

Louis looks down at his hands and then smiles back at Liam. “You know, when all this started happening, you were the first person I wanted to call. Isn’t that funny?”

“Hilarious,” Liam answers. “Do you think we could. I mean. Could we maybe stretch this lunch out into a dinner? Maybe a film, or something?” And there’s that puppy dog face that Louis has become accustomed to over the last few months.

“I think we should change the subject,” he says softly, still smiling so that Liam will know he’s not cross. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been good. Been working on a business thing, making some plans for the future.” He looks up at Louis, suddenly serious. “I think about you all the time.”

Louis bites his lip as Liam looks away.

“That’s a little too much information, I guess.”

“A bit, yeah.”

“But you said you’ve been thinking about me, too.” Louis’ heart sinks with the hopeful look on Liam’s face.

“Because you’ve been such a good friend through all of this, Liam.”

Liam waggles his eyes in a way that has Louis giggling before he’s even opened his mouth to speak. “So you _haven’t_ thought about me in the nude? Not even without my shirt on?” He’s feigning incredulousness, and Louis is laughing out loud now, and clearly has no control over the next words out of his mouth.

“God, no, Nick. Stop it.”

Louis stops breathing for a moment when he realizes what he’s just said. Liam’s face falls and then goes blank.

“M’not Nick. I’m Liam.”

Louis thinks he might cry. “Sorry,” he nearly whispers.

Liam takes a breath and squares his shoulders, his face unusually hard when he asks, “Do you think you’ll ever be able to feel about anyone else the way you did for Nick? Or do you need to wait for one of your letters to give you the answer?”

It stings, and Louis is stunned into silence, because it’s so unlike Liam to confront him. He still hasn’t quite gathered his wits when Liam collects his things and moves to stand from the table.

“Wait,” Louis says. “Where are you going?”

Liam stops and sits back down, turning to face Louis, even if he can’t quite meet his eyes. “I really like you, but I can’t be the invisible man. I’m tired of being ‘the shoulder’. I want - I wanna be a _different_ body part you need. I want, for once in my life, to be the bad boy that people go crazy for, the one that ruins them for anyone else.”

“You don’t really want that, Liam,” Louis murmurs sadly, because that is not who Liam is. He’s not a user, and he would never hurt someone on purpose.

“No, I don’t want that, but I’d like to date someone who actually _likes_ me, you know?” He sighs and looks away, his eyes red and a little bit watery. “I’d like to be somebody’s Nick.”

Louis doesn’t stop him when he rises from the table this time. His voice is stuck with the lump in his throat, and he’s not really sure that he knows what to say anyway. 

“I understand, Louis,” Liam says before he goes. “It’s not like I planned to have feelings for you. It just sort of happened.”

And then he’s gone, and Louis’ all alone again, fighting the tears that are welling up in his eyes. 

**

He still can’t catch his breath when he shoves his way through the door into the pub. “Mum?” he calls, the tears finally taking over when she comes around the corner.

Jay takes one look at him and pulls him into her arms. “Oh poppet. What’s the matter, darling? What’s happened?”

"I don't. I don't know how to _do_ this." 

He's full on sobbing now, and it feels like the first time since Nick died that he's really been able to let it all out. He vaguely hears his mum ask the daytime barkeep to give them a few minutes, and then she's pulling him over to sit on the nearest barstool.

"When dad left, you were so devastated, and God, the twins were just _babies_ , and I thought. I swore to myself then, that I'd never let anyone hurt me like that, that I'd never let anyone get that close. And then I met Nick, and he was _everything_ , and now he's gone. I don't even know who I am without him, mum. It doesn’t matter what job I have or what friends I have, because he’s not here. How am I supposed to do this?"

Jay sighs and grabs a clean linen from the bar, wiping the tears from Louis' cheeks, even as they continue to fall. "Let's take a walk, yeah? I think we could both use the fresh air."

She buys them each a tea from the shop on the corner, and they make their way two blocks over to the park. The cracks in the pavement are littered with red and gold where the leaves have fallen from the trees, and the crisp autumn air feels bright in his lungs. 

His mum stops and smiles, looking around. "This is where your dad and I had our first kiss. Did I ever tell you that?" Louis shakes his head. “We used to come here all the time to hang out with our friends. We’d bring radios and cigarettes, there was usually beer or wine involved. And we’d have our own dance parties out here under the stars.” 

She pauses for a moment, lost in the memories. She looks at Louis again, curiously. “I bet you had a hard time walking into a room full of people on your own, right?” Louis looks down and nods, and it hurts to admit, because before Nick he was always the loudest voice in the room. “Yeah,” she continues. “I know that feeling, how it is not to feel like you’re in the room until he looks at you, or touches your hand, or even makes a joke at your expense, just to let everyone know that you’re with _him_. God, that man could make me laugh.”

Louis smiles at her, confused. “Dad? I don’t ever remember you laughing.”

Glancing at Louis with a mix of pity and regret in her eyes, she says, “Well, that makes me sad, because I did.”

They walk a little further, the silence between them not entirely uncomfortable. Louis knows that his mum has more to say, and that she’ll get to it in her own time.

“I didn’t hate Nick, just so you know,” she says quietly.

“Even though he reminded you of dad?”

“He didn’t. Not really. It was more that you were so young. The worst thing for a parent, besides the death of a child, is watching your children make the same mistakes that you made, and knowing that there’s nothing you can do to stop it.” There are tears hinting at the corners of her eyes as she continues, “It makes you angry, and I’ve been angry for so long. It’s exhausting.”

“Do you think we’ll ever see dad again?” Louis asks.

“No darling. No I don’t. So you have to stop waiting.” She reaches into her coat pocket, pulling out a thick envelope that’s been folded in half to fit. When she unfolds it in front of him, he can see his name scrawled on the front, just like all the others that came before.

“You?” Louis asks, confused, because she’s seemed so disapproving of Nick’s plan since that very first night so many months ago.

She smiles and nods, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “I have to say, I was quite impressed with the way he worked everything out ahead of time. Every delivery schedule, the mailbox key. Getting that leather jacket out of your flat was no easy feat, with you turning into a recluse after the funeral.”

Louis is absolutely bewildered, and his mum looks so earnest, as if she’s trying to apologise for keeping the secret all this time. “He made me promise. I couldn’t say no. I told him that I didn’t think it was good for you, but I just couldn’t say no. It’s the last one, so now, alone or not, you’ve got to move ahead. The thing to remember is, if we’re all alone, then we’re all together in that, too.”

She puts a hand to Louis’ cheek, thumb brushing gently where the tears have begun to fall. She smiles softly and says, “It helps me, sometimes.” And then she turns and leaves Louis alone with his thoughts.

**

_Winter..._

It’s been three weeks since his mum gave him Nick’s last letter, and Louis’ no closer to figuring out what it all means. Nick had told him to look for a sign. It’s been a recurring theme in all of his letters, and he’s not sure what exactly it is he’s supposed to have been looking for. 

The city is buzzing with the spirit of the holidays, lights strung in shop windows, and a Santa on every other corner. Louis’ even put up a small tree in his flat, a big step up from last year when he stopped leaving the house and forgot to bathe for a week at a time. 

He’s sat on the sofa, wrapped in an old, fuzzy blanket that might have once belonged to Nick’s nan, and nursing a glass of wine. He’s reading the letter for maybe the twentieth time when his phone starts to ring. He lets it go to voicemail, only noticing right before it rings off that it’s Liam who’s calling. He waits a few minutes, and then dials his access code.

“Hey, Lou,” Liam says. “It’s Liam. I was thinking, about what I said in the restaurant. And I think it would be great if you could maybe forget about it? I didn’t mean it. Well, maybe a little, but I still think we should just forget about it. And now I’m rambling, I always do that when I get nervous. Um, I have this mate who works at Emirates Stadium, does security and such, said he could get us in any time we like? I thought. Well, give me a call back if you’d like to go some time. I miss my friend. Bye, Louis.”

Louis stares at his phone where it sits in his hand, and then looks down at Nick’s letter in his lap. Is there a chance that Nick’s been sending him signs pointing to Liam this whole time?

He’s not sure of anything anymore, but he needs to find out.

**

“Paul said we can come any time we want, he can arrange it for us to have a kickabout if we wanted,” Liam says, scratching at the back of his head as they walk out into the stands. “Could probably get us tickets to a match, or something.”

Louis’ hands are stuffed into his coat pockets, to ward off the chill as much as the awkward tension that still hangs over him and Liam. He’d fucked up royally, and Liam had extended an olive branch of sorts. Louis is not dumb enough to make him regret it. “It’s amazing, Liam. Thank you for inviting me.”

They’re both quiet as they look out over the field, and the history of this place is not lost on Louis. If it was any other day, he might be able to appreciate it. 

Liam looks up at him as Louis moves closer, pulling Nick’s letter from his pocket and holding it out for Liam to take. Liam traces the letters written on the front almost reverently and meets Louis’ eyes again and asks, “Are you sure you want me to read it?”

“Yeah,” Louis answers with a smile. He steps away from Liam and paces back and forth on the concrete walk as Liam unfolds the pages.

“Dear Louis,” Liam reads out loud, glancing at Louis quickly, confirming that this is really okay, and then continues to read Nick’s letter out loud for Louis to hear.

“I don’t have much time. I don’t mean literally - I mean you’re out picking up a takeaway and you’ll be home soon. But I have a feeling this will be the last letter, because there’s only one thing left to tell you. It isn’t to go down memory lane, or make you buy a new outfit; you can take care of those things without any help from me. It’s to tell you how much you’ve moved me, how you changed me. I never understood what it meant ‘to be a man’ until you came along. You made me see that I could care about someone else more than I cared for myself. You made me a man by loving me, Louis, and for that I will forever be grateful.”

“If you can promise me anything, promise me that whenever you’re sad or unsure, or you lose faith, that you’ll try to see yourself through my eyes. Thank you for the honor of sharing your life with me. I am a man of no regrets. How lucky am I? You are my life, Louis, but I’m just one chapter in yours; there will be more, I promise. So here it comes, the big one: don’t be afraid to fall in love again. Watch out for that signal, when life as you know it ends. P.S., I will _always_ love you.”

Louis has read the letter so many times that he could have recited it to Liam without ever looking at the page, but it’s effect on him is still the same. He takes a deep breath to help clear the tears from his eyes and the lump from his throat. 

Liam comes to stand in front of him, handing the letter back to Louis and leveling him with his most serious gaze. “Have you thought about this? About me, I mean.” Louis nods, because, yes. He’s thought of not much else since he got Liam’s call two days ago. 

He nods, unable to look away from the warm brown of Liam’s eyes. “Have you?” he asks in return. Liam nods and answers with a soft _yeah_.

They each take a step forward then, barely a few inches between them now. Liam rests his hands on Louis’ hips, pulling him a fraction closer still, as Louis wraps his fingers around the bulk of Liam’s biceps. They’re breathing the same air now, noses barely brushing, and Louis presses forward, grazing his lips gently over Liam’s. His lips are warm, soft and pillowy, like Louis thought they’d be from just looking at them, and he feels Liam press more firmly against his own mouth. It’s nice, in a way, like Liam, himself. There’s just no electricity, no spark. It’s not earth moving or soul changing in any way.

They break apart after a few seconds, his hands still on Liam’s arms when Liam says with a chuckle, “This isn’t going to work at all, is it?” He doesn’t really sound disappointed, and Louis feels like he’s dropped a weight he’s been carrying on his back for ages.

“Not at all,” he answers, smiling until he can feel his eyes crinkle up in the corners.

Liam laughs, bright and cheerful. “It was almost like kissing my sister,” he says.

“Hey!” Louis scoffs, playfully punching Liam’s shoulder.

He just smiles and replies, “You know what I mean.”

“I got this letter and thought he must be feeling all self-sacrificing, you know? But most of the time, he’s just full of shit. But I thought maybe he’d really give me some sort of sign, and then I got your message, and I just.” He doesn’t really know what else to say. He’s just glad that he and Liam are on the same page for once. He takes two steps closer to Liam and reaches for his hand. “Weird, bitter friends?”

Liam pulls him into a tight hug and says, “Always, Lou.”

Louis’ breath feels ragged in his chest with the overwhelming emotion coursing through him. He’s at a true crossroads, still unsure which path his life will follow. He only knows that it’s up to him to decide, to face it on his own.

“What’s wrong, friend?” Liam asks, rubbing a soothing hand over Louis’ spine.

“It’s Nick,” he answers. “It’s been a year, and I can’t feel him around me anymore. I think he’s really gone.”

**

The weeks roll on, and Louis celebrates another birthday, another Christmas without Nick. 

Then it’s New Year’s, and Niall’s wedding. Louis and Ed sing the song they finished in the studio that one day during the autumn, as Niall and Bressie share their official first dance. They are atrocious dancers, but the song is a hit. So is Ed’s album, that features no less than three songs that Louis had helped to write. 

He rolls through another Valentine’s day, another Saint Patrick’s Day and Easter. He’s there when Liam meets the woman who will turn out to be the great love of his life, and when they get married six months later, Louis is his best man.

We watches as Zayn holds his little girl for the first time, and he’s there to hold her when they ask him to be godfather.

All in all, Louis is pretty happy with the direction his life is heading these days.

He’s in the studio when it happens. He’s been working with Niall and Ed all week on a new song, and they’ve almost got it, but there’s something still missing that Louis can’t quite put his finger on. 

He’s stepped outside for a breath of fresh air to clear his head when he bumps into someone else turning the corner. When he looks up to offer an apology, he’s pleasantly startled to see Harry standing in front of him.

“It’s you,” he says. “What are you doing here?”

Harry smiles, the dimple in his left cheek on full display. A warmth spreads through Louis from the inside out, like the sun is radiating from his very bones. “I got picked up by a little indie label. The guy heard me sing in the pub and signed me the next day. They sent me down here to work with some up and coming songwriter. I can’t believe you’re standing in front of me right now.”

Louis’ cheeks hurt, he’s grinning so hard now. “Me either. Wow, that’s so great, Harry. How long are you in town for?”

“I’ve no idea. A while, I think.”

“That’s - that’s excellent. Maybe I’ll see you around, then? I’m here in the studio, quite a bit these days.”

“I hope so. It’s really good to see you again, Louis.”

“Same,” he answers, feeling like he’s floating on air. 

He shouldn't be at all surprised when he gets back in the studio twenty minutes later, to find Harry there, going over some notes with Niall.

**

When Nick’s birthday comes around, Louis takes flowers to his grave, and brings Nick a letter of his very own. 

_Dear Nick,_

_You said you wanted me to fall in love again, and maybe one day I will. But there are all kinds of love out there, and I’m lucky enough to know that I’m surrounded by it. This is my one and only life, and it’s a great and wonderful and endless thing. I try to honour you each day by living it to the fullest._

_I don’t have a plan, and that’s okay. I’m learning to laugh again, and for now, that’s enough. I don’t know how you did it, but you brought me back from the dead, and I’m forever grateful._

_P.S. guess what? <3 _

**


End file.
